Last night I realized I had fallen behind on my Plague-reading, so I settled in with a bowl of popcorn and my copy of a certain novel by Albert Camus that’s about this town that gets slammed by a certain scary disease called PLAGUE. (I’m talking, of course, about The Plague by Albert Camus.)
By the way, if you’re interested, here’s how I dressed my popcorn: I used flax seed oil (a really expensive mystical oil that has healing properties; the bottle says to drink two tablespoons a day; I’m like, no thanks, that’s what orange juice is for) and nutritional yeast flakes (aka vegan space-dust) and salt and pre-packaged Cajun spice mix. You dump all that stuff in the bowl and shake it around and then you pour yourself a little glass of dry vermouth and you go into the living room and GET DOWN.
(The reason I didn’t do my traditional popcorn recipe of half a stick of butter and lots of hot sauce is because I’m trying to cut down on my dairy/cholesterol and I’d rather go broke buying flax seed oil– seriously, why is that stuff so expensive, I’d prefer to not have to take out a home equity loan just to buy condiments, am I right or what, people.)
Anyway, the long and the short of it is last night’s episode of The Plague was pretty good. The doctor was up to his old tricks, running himself ragged trying to help all his patients. Meanwhile that one guy who the doctor was talking to earlier is now hell-bent on escaping the city. (I call him “Mr. Escape From Witch Mountain,” but I think his real name is Tarrou. Or Gardon. Or Mattard … some French name like that.) He met with some shady dudes at a restaurant and they said they could get him out for 10,000 (francs?). Apparently he wants to go see his girlfriend, who’s on the wrong side of the wall. At this point, I was like, “I know The Plague was written in the 1940s, but could it be a metaphor for East and West Germany?” Can books be metaphors for things that haven’t happened yet? That’s where my head was at last night … blame the flax seed oil.
The other significant development was they decided to start a civilian medical corps that would help out with plague-related medical issues. I think they’ll be dragging corpses from one tent to another, or maybe giving people bags to cough up their lungs into. In any event, this seems to be the moment where the whole city is like, “You know what? This plague ain’t going anywhere. We need to push back. GAME ON.” I thought, “Goddamn, about time, you folks are getting your asses kicked. What’s the latest death toll, like 130+ per day?” But I’m rooting for the town, I gotta admit. I hope they can beat the plague. (And also, I hope they don’t make the mistake of turning to the government for help, because the government will just raise their taxes and pull the plug on grandma.)
What else happened? Well, I dog-eared one quote that a guy says to the doctor after the doctor thanks him for volunteering with the medical effort:
“Why, that’s not difficult! Plague is here and we’ve got to make a stand, that’s obvious. Ah, I only wish everything were as simple.”
Toughest thing ever said? Maybe so. Wondering if I could fit all that on a knuckle-tattoo.
Here’s another quote I liked that might look good tattooed on my bicep:
“What on earth prompted you to (help out)?”
“I don’t know. My code of morals, perhaps.”
“Your code of morals? What code?”
Hello, is that very tough? That’s one of those things you read where you’re like, “Not sure what it means, but it definitely means something bad-ass.”
Some other stuff happened but I forgot. But don’t worry, because next week I’ll continue to summarize and analyze this important novel, called The Plague.
Have a great weekend!